Gaydar
by Sunflowerluf
Summary: After Ginny breaks off their fizzling relationship, Harry comes to the realization that he might, just MIGHT like blokes. What he doesn't realize, though, is that every gay wizard in the vicinity can tell! Oneshot, HPDM slash.


**[[Summary:]] **After Ginny breaks off their fizzling relationship, Harry comes to the realization that he might, just _might_ like blokes. What he doesn't realize, though, is that every gay wizard in the vicinity can _tell_.

**[[Disclaimer:]]** I do not own Harry Potter, and I am not making any money off of this work of fiction. I can only get paid in reviews! (*winkwinknudgenudge*)

**[[Warning:]]** This fic contains slash. That means male/male sexual content, people! Men touching other men! Frottage! Warning! Danger! Lol, just kidding, you know you love it. Read on!

**-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-**

The sight of Harry Potter dragging himself past the lift doors of the Ministry early Monday morning had long since become commonplace. Long gone were the whispers, the stares, the surreptitious camera flashes from corners when no one thought he was watching. Yes, Harry Potter was still a celebrity, but after two years of working for the Auror department, the novelty had worn off, and his coworkers went about their business.

Today, however, something was different. When Harry walked past offices, he saw heads peeking around desks, he could hear the rustle of newspapers as they were passed around and quickly hidden as he strode past. He saw guilty glances as his presence interrupted whispered gossip as he made his way to his office near the end of the hall.

Harry groaned inwardly. This had happened before, and it could only mean one thing. Rita Skeeter was back to her horrible tricks, and something was in the paper. He was pretty sure he knew what it was.

As he entered his office, his worst fears were confirmed. Lying in the center of his desk was everyone's favorite wizarding newspaper, headlines proclaiming: "_Sexy Savior is Single Once More_!" The inset was a picture of Ginny Weasley stalking away from the cameraman, flipping him a two fingered salute; next to it a slightly older one of himself walking by himself in the park, clearly deep in thought. Side by side, it made it look as if picture-Ginny and picture-Harry were walking away from each other. Clever, Harry thought with disgust.

He didn't bother reading the rag that called itself _The Daily Prophet_. He knew what it said, though it was probably the 'sensationalized' version of the story. Ginny had broken up with him nearly a week ago. Their floundering relationship had been on its last legs for the past year, but neither of them had been inclined to do anything about it. When you've been with the same person for four years, it was difficult to let go, even if it wasn't working out.

The rekindling of their relationship after the war ended had been rocky from the start. The spark that brought them together was sputtering at the best of times, despite both of their efforts to bring themselves back to where they were before. They both had their excuses. Ginny had Fred's death, Harry had the stresses from the nightmares and the publicity of being The-Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. What it all came down to was that Ginny was too stubborn to give up the boy she'd been crushing on for years, and Harry was too ready for the security a steady girlfriend provided. The two Gryffindors were determined to make it work, and so it did. They were even happy together at times.

When Harry entered Auror training, and Ginny was accepted into the Holyhead Harpies, things started to get worse. They rarely saw each other any more- Ginny was on tour for months out of the year, and Harry was devoted to his job, spending long hours at his desk and in the field. Their sex life was just abysmal, but the two just resigned themselves to the idea that maybe that wasn't a big deal.

Then came the 'incident.' Harry and Ginny were enjoying one of their rare nights out together, the two becoming uncharacteristically drunk. Ginny had dragged him to a Muggle club, insisting they have some fun- she knew Harry hated dancing, but he did it to make her happy. He lost track of her in the crowd, and ended up dancing with a bloke that had been making eyes at him all night. Harry still didn't quite know how it happened, but one thing led to another, and the next moment he was snogging the man hard against the back wall of the club. Ginny had to physically come over and peel him off.

This led to some awkwardness, as Ginny demanded to know why the hell that had happened, and after sobering up, Harry was completely confused about it himself. After several rows and countless quiet conversations, their relationship finally gave up the ghost, and they parted ways amicably. They both agreed to keep it quiet for the time being, to let themselves settle into their new lives apart, and for Harry to get some time to _think_, without being hounded by reporters. Somewhere along the line though, the press had gotten a whiff of it, and now it seemed the secret was out.

Harry allowed himself to wallow in self pity a bit at his desk. This whole week had been one big headache, and now this? First of all, he'd had to explain to the other Weasleys that he and Ginny had broken up, without going into the 'why'. That had been tough; Mrs. Weasley had cried.

Secondly, never in his life had Harry been attracted to other blokes, but ever since 'the incident', it was all he could ever think about. Now that he was single, he had given himself permission to look at other people... but he was looking at the wrong gender! Just yesterday he had caught himself admiring a jogger's legs as he ran past in his tight-fitting athletic outfit.

It was confusing, and Harry didn't want to think about it. He really didn't want to be gay. He was different enough as it was, and he was _comfortable_ liking women. The only problem was, he had the sneaking suspicion that this was the reason his relationship with Ginny had been so unsteady. This, maybe, was the reason he'd never really cared about sex. Even so, he shrank away from the thought, burying it deep in his mind.

As he sank his head into his resting palms at his desk, he heard the approach of footsteps, and a familiar voice from his doorway, "What a surprise, Potter's in the newspaper!" Harry looked up to meet the sarcastic smirk of Draco Malfoy, the blond leaning in his doorway with a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ in his hands.

When Malfoy had entered the Auror training program, everyone had been shocked to say the least. There was a lot of suspicion at first- there were a lot of days where Malfoy had been hit with one too many hexes during training to be a coincidence. But Malfoy had carried on as if nothing happened, shrugging off the hexes with his devil-may-care attitude. Eventually, even the most suspicious of them had grudgingly admitted that Malfoy made an excellent Auror, and that he was an asset to the team. Harry himself had admitted that he'd become more tolerable over the years, and had even been partnered with him in raids on occasion.

Malfoy, however, had never quite lost the inclination to push his buttons at every opportunity. Which is why Harry didn't make eye contact with the blond, mumbling into his desk, "Malfoy, please go away. I am not having a good day." All very civil. Harry was very proud of himself.

Malfoy of course completely ignored him. He walked in and sat on Harry's desk with a little hop, an annoying little habit he had developed, and said, "A bad day? Would this have anything to do with the fact that the Weaslette has finally kicked you to the curb? Or as the paper this morning says, 'stomped on your fragile hero heart and tossed you aside like so much garbage?' "

Harry winced. "Does it really say that?"

"I may have taken some artistic license."

Harry glared up at him. "Git."

"What happened anyway?" Malfoy asked. " Weren't you supposed to sweep her off her feet and elope and make five hundred Weasel babies?"

"Shut it, I'm not telling you," Harry said without rancor, used to Malfoy's taunts. Harry avoided his eyes, trying not to think of the real reason for the ending of his ill-fated relationship.

Malfoy grinned, "Well I'll tell you what the paper says." He unfolded the paper in his hands and started to read in a loud gleeful voice, _" '_Ginevra Weasley calls it quits after years of dating! As neither of the couple is available to comment, this reporter turns to a source close to the youngest Weasley. _"She'd always be more frightened, you know, when it was around the full moon," _the source says_. "She would never see Mr. Potter during these times, almost like she was avoiding him! She denies it of course, but I truly believe that Mr. Potter is a werewolf!" _You heard it here first, folks_! ' "_

"What?!" Harry said indignantly. "That's just trash and you know it!"

Draco gave him a mock-innocent look. "I don't know, Potter, it is in the paper after all, and would they report it if it wasn't the truth? And since you won't tell me why you broke up, that's all I have to go by-"

"Fine!" Harry cut him off, snatching the paper in Malfoy's hands, tossing it to the floor. He flicked his wand at it, and it promptly shred itself to pieces. "If you must know, we just decided that we just weren't right for each other."

"What, that's it? How boring, Potter." Malfoy looked almost disappointed, as he looked down from his perch on his desk.

Harry nodded, glaring up at the former Slytherin. "Yes, the truth generally is more boring. I think me and Ginny both just wanted to take some time to think our lives over, really think about what we want." Harry couldn't help the memory that flashed through his mind at that moment, of the man's back pressed against the wall, his tongue hot and heavy as they snogged each other breathless. Harry could feel himself flushing faintly.

Malfoy was about to say something, then stopped suddenly, looking down at him with wide eyes. Then he let out an incredulous little laugh, staring at Harry like he'd grown five heads.

"What?" Harry asked irritably. Malfoy was still sitting on his desk, and his closeness was making Harry uncomfortable.

Malfoy started to chuckle, continuing to look at Harry like he'd never seen him before. "You need to think about what you _want_?" he repeated, parroting Harry's words back at him. Draco hopped back off the desk with a smirk, walking to the door. "Alright Potter, you _think_. You take all the time you need." And with that cryptic statement, he walked down the corridor laughing, leaving Harry scowling at his desk.

Harry briefly entertained the idea that Malfoy had somehow used legilimency against him to peer in his mind at the wrong moment, but quickly tossed that idea aside. He wouldn't have been able to do it without Harry noticing. So why had he laughed like that? Malfoy was so strange sometimes.

Harry spent the rest of the day hiding in his office, ignoring the whispers around him, and generally being unproductive.

**-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-**

The next day dawned bright and clear, with Harry's mood much improved. Harry decided he would take the long way into work today, walking from the nearby apparition point to the new employee phone booth entrance. A brisk morning walk always did wonders for his mental state.

As he neared the entrance, he noticed, with some annoyance, that he was being watched. A man, maybe in his early thirties or so, was headed in his same direction, but was unabashedly _staring_ at him.

Usually this occurrence wouldn't bother him. Harry was used to being stared at by all sorts of people, and he could easily shrug it off as an unfortunate byproduct of his fame. He knew this man, however, and he had no business staring. Harry had met him a few times- he worked in Arthur Weasley's department; he thought his name was Worthington or something. Why would _he_ be making a big deal out of his Boy-Who-Lived status? Hadn't he worked for the Ministry long enough for this to stop?

Worthington-or-something was clearly going the same route as he was, and Harry, pushing his irritation aside, offered to share the booth-ride down. The man _blushed_, of all things, and shyly accepted, giving him odd looks the whole time. The lift ride was strangely awkward, too, with the man glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. Harry couldn't reach his floor fast enough, and stumbled out of the lift without a second glance.

Harry managed to brush off the odd interaction by the time he got to his desk. He was barely settled down before he heard a knock at his open door, and Malfoy was walking in, not bothering for Harry to invite him inside. He propped himself up on the side of the desk, looking down at the sitting Harry. "Potter," he nodded politely, in greeting.

"Malfoy. You don't usually darken my doorstep two days in a row. Tell me, what have I done to deserve this?"

"Oh, I just stopped by to check on your progress," Malfoy said, looking down at him with his trademark smirk. He seemed to be searching for something, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he gave Harry a once-over with his eyes. "Doesn't seem like you've made much headway."

Harry could feel himself leaning back in his chair, the blond's nearness causing a strange sensation deep in his stomach. He noticed that he could smell the faint scent of Malfoy's cologne, a subtle, clean scent. "Progress?" he managed to ask, wanting to look away from Malfoy's searching silver eyes, "I don't have any current projects I'm working on."

"This isn't a work project, Potter. It's of a more _personal_ nature." That damned smirk got imperceptibly wider.

Harry scowled, "What are you on about?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"Look, Malfoy, just say whatever the hell you mean. I don't have time for your riddles!"

"Oh no, I don't think so Potter, I'm having far too much fun," Malfoy replied, getting up from his leaning position and heading to the door again. "Bye for now. I'll be checking up on you later."

"What do you mean you'll be checking up on me?!" Harry yelled after him in exasperation.

But all that was left of Malfoy was the sound of mysterious laughter drifting from down the hall.

**-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-**

Malfoy didn't come back to his desk that week, but Harry saw him more often than he would have liked. It always seemed that they would bump into each other in the Atrium on the way home, or pass in the hallway on the way to lunch. Each time, Malfoy would give him a searching look, and a secretive smile. It was bloody driving Harry mental!

To top it off, people were acting really strangely around him all of a sudden. Icarus, a fellow Auror that he'd been working with for two years, wouldn't stop gaping at him. One of his friends from the Criminal Archives Department would not look him in the eye anymore. A dark wizard taken in for questioning spent most of his time staring at Harry with a funny little smile on his face. It was infuriatingly strange, and Harry just couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from!

Harry had hoped to relax over the weekend, but there was no luck there. Hermione was doing some type of research with Boggarts that he'd promised to help her with, since she was sick to death of dealing with them alone for the past month. Harry wondered at first why she didn't want Ron to help, and why she was guiltily avoiding the topic whenever he asked. Harry had been amused to learn that Hermione's Boggart now took the form of Mrs. Weasley telling her she had never been good enough for 'ickle Ronnekins' and that she would make a horrible mother- the Boggart-Weasley dressing her down with words vicious enough that Harry felt a little sorry for her. Sadly, Harry's Boggart remained unchanged, and he spent most of Saturday charming fake Dementors back into boxes.

Sunday, he planned to make a trip into Diagon Alley, to stop by Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for a present for Teddy. It was his godson's birthday the next week, and he wanted to surprise him with something fun. Harry tried going to the shop during midday, but had promptly been swamped by reporters, lobbing personal questions at him, prying about Ginny, and throwing ridiculous accusations around-

"Mr. Potter, is it true that you got another witch pregnant?"

"Mr. Potter, is it true that Ms. Weasley dumped you because you're into bondage?"

"Mr. Potter, is it true you have trouble 'getting it up'?"

Needless to say, Harry decided to come back later, when there were less crowds. Which is how Harry found himself slinking through the door near closing time, under his invisibility cloak. He'd used the cloak since the war, but usually only on raids. It felt a little ridiculous to be hiding from reporters under it, and he was glad when he could take it off.

The joke shop was much bigger now. George had bought out the lots surrounding the original store, expanding the space, and filling it with all sorts of wonders. Harry dodged as a charmed stuffed dragon swooped at him, breathing out bubbles in a hissing roar. Harry smiled. The store always made him feel like a kid again.

He was glad to see that the store was almost empty, the last few straggling customers making their purchases. The girl at the front desk, Emma, recognized him immediately. "Hi, Harry! I think George is in the back somewhere, want me to go get him?"

"It's okay, Em, you finish up. I'm going to do a little browsing anyway," he said, waving her off good-naturedly. He took a turn down one of the aisles, towards the puzzle section.

Teddy was smart, precocious really, with a voracious appetite for knowledge that could one day rival Hermione's. Andromeda was convinced he would be sorted into Ravenclaw one day, and encouraged his inquisitive endeavors, giving him all sorts of toys and puzzles, often with riddles or some secret way of solving them. Teddy loved them, and Harry knew they would make a wonderful present.

Harry turned a corner and was surprised to see a man on his hands and knees, bending over in the puzzle aisle, rummaging for something in the far recesses on the bottom shelf. Harry waited patiently for the man to finish, pretending to browse in the section nearby. The man was wearing form-fitting khakis, and his arse bobbed up and down as he crawled out from under the shelf. Harry noticed he was staring and quickly spun around, face burning. He'd just been ogling that man's arse! Merlin, what was wrong with him?

"Harry?" came a familiar voice from the floor in the aisle. Oh no, it couldn't be...

Harry turned around as the man got back to his feet. "George," he said, trying desperately to ignore the reddening of his face, "Emma said you were in back." Oh my god, he'd been ogling _George's_ arse! Harry tried to quietly die of mortification.

"Yeah, I was restocking. So what brings you to my humble shop?"

"Teddy's birthday is coming up. I wanted to get him something..."

But Harry trailed off when he realized that George wasn't listening. He was looking at Harry in confusion, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Then suddenly, he started busting up laughing! Harry, completely bemused, just watched as the red-haired prankster laughed himself silly.

"Um, George? Did you turn my hair pink or something?"

George got a hold of himself with a little trouble, leaning back against the shelf behind him. "No, no, nothing like that Harry! It's just... When you broke up with my little sister, we all were wondering why. Ginny was so close-lipped about the whole thing, just told us that we needed to ask you. And now I see why!"

"What?"

"I can see why you two broke up!"

Harry was bewildered, but that didn't stop the scowl from settling into place. "What do you mean you can see why we broke up? Honestly, people have been so weird around me all week! And now you? Seriously, someone has got to tell me what is going on!"

George stopped laughing openly, but he still wore a grin. He peered interestedly at Harry, saying, "You mean you don't know?" he continued after Harry's irritated and confused look. "Harry. I can tell."

"What? You can tell what?"

"That you're, shall we say, questioning things at the moment?"

"What?" Harry was lost.

George looked from one side to another, ensuring that they were alone in the aisle. He cast a privacy charm, then folded his arms across his chest, giving Harry a little grin. "I can't blame you for not knowing, since you were raised in the Muggle world."

Oh, so it was one of those things. Harry was used to little things like this that came up every once in a while, some odd quirk of wizarding culture that he had missed out in while staying at the Dursleys'. He nodded patiently.

George continued, "First of all, I don't think the subject ever came up, but Harry, I'm gay."

"Um, okay," he said tentatively, wondering where this was going. He wasn't expecting George to say that, but now that he thought about it, he wasn't really surprised. Harry never remembered seeing him with a girl... he'd never brought one home to meet the family... and there had been that one time when Harry had caught him and another bloke sitting suspiciously close to each other on that couch in the back room...

"Right," George said, "Now having been raised by Muggles, you've probably never heard about the Gaydar."

Harry felt himself turning bright red. "Erm- well, I've heard of it- they have it in the Muggle world too. It's... supposed to be a kind of sixth sense that some people have that can single out gay people."

"Muggles have it too, do they?" George looked surprised. "But it must not be the same kind as in the wizarding world. Here, gay wizards can actually learn to fine-tune their magical senses to detect other gay people. They sense it as kind of a bell, or a 'blip' kind of noise. I don't know where they got the name though-" (Harry refrained from explaining about radars) " but it's kind of useful, don't you think? To be able to be able to tell who is gay and who is not?"

Harry started to come to a realization, quietly horrified, "So when you say you can tell..."

"Yup. I can tell just by looking at you. My Gaydar is going off. Very faint at the moment, but it's still there."

"Well bugger," Harry swore, his mind reeling. "I'm surprised it's not plastered all over the _Prophet_ by now!"

But George was shaking his head adamantly, "No, it won't be in the news unless you come out, or get caught kissing some bloke. If someone senses you on their Gaydar, but you haven't come out yet, it's like an Unbreakable Vow of silence. Can't talk about what they sense to anyone but you. So even if I were a giant arsehole, and wanted to sell this lovely gossip gem to the press, I couldn't tell them a thing. My lips are literally sealed."

Harry relaxed then, muttering, "Right. Good."

"But until then, I can at least talk to you about it. Just no one else."

"But-why haven't I heard of this before?" Harry asked, stammering past his embarrassment. "I mean, I've never sensed _you_ on any Gaydar before."

"That's because only gay wizards have it. Usually you can't even start developing the sense until you come out. Even then it takes a while."

"So only other gay people have this Gaydar?"

"Yup."

Harry was starting to get his suspicions about Malfoy, and all the strange behavior this last week. "I'm glad you told me about it... This explains a lot."

George gave an easy laugh, and turned around, grabbing a couple puzzles off the shelf. "Glad I could help. Here you go, on the house."

Harry shook his head in protest, trying to hold out a couple galleons.

"No," George said, refusing them with stern finality, "Your galleons are no good here, mate. I've told you before, anything you want from here is free. This place wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for you."

"Er, thanks," Harry said awkwardly, shrinking the puzzles enough to fit them in his robe pocket. "And thanks for, you know, telling me."

Harry turned to leave, but George's hand on his arm stopped him. "Just one more thing, Harry," he said, with a wicked glint in his eye. "I know I'm irresistible and all, what with being young, successful, and funny- not to mention my dashing good looks. Of course you're tempted to throw me on the floor and shag me to within an inch of my life. It would happen to anyone." George shook his head in mock anguish. "But sadly, I must tell you I'm off limits. You're like a brother to me, and I could never be with you after Ginny."

Harry was bewildered, having no idea where this came from. "Um, yeah George, erm, same here. I think of you as a brother. I would never...you know...with you." He didn't even want to think about men in that way, let alone _George_!

"Good," George said with a gleam in his eye, "because you know, some wizards have Gaydars so sensitive, they can tell when another bloke is checking out their arse. I just wanted to be clear with you. Would hate for me to lead you on."

Harry practically ran from the store, the sound of George's laughter ringing in his ears.

**-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-**

Monday morning reared its ugly head, and Harry dragged himself into the office, ready for another day's hard work.

He'd been sitting at his desk for a half an hour, finishing off some paperwork from the interrogation last Friday, when he heard the familiar footsteps in his doorway. And here he'd thought he'd gotten off scot-free.

"Potter," Malfoy said, entering Harry's office like it was his own. "I came to check up on you."

Harry didn't bother asking him what he was checking on. Now he finally knew, after a week of torment. So instead he said with a potent glare, "Stop looking so smug, you arsehole. You could have told me."

"Figured it out, have you?" Malfoy's grin was reminiscent of a cat that caught the canary. He leaned against the door frame, looking at Harry almost fondly. "_And_ I see you've made some progress."

"Sod off," Harry said, waving his hand dismissively. "Go find someone else to bother."

Malfoy ignored him, of course. "You know, I've never had the privilege of seeing the process actually happening. I didn't have a Gaydar until I left school, and most people know for sure one way or the other by that time. But then again, I always knew you were slow."

"Shut up, Malfoy, and leave me alone," Harry said bitingly. "I won't be an _experiment _for you to watch, and you won't be seeing any sort of _process_ with me. I'm not going through a _process_ in the first place!"

Malfoy stood up straighter in the doorway. "Are you still in denial? Potter, it's obvious. My Gaydar is going off, and there's only one thing that could mean- that you like cocks and balls and hard bodies and everything else that comes with liking _men_."

Harry swore he could feel himself flushing eleven different shades of red. "Look, I can't believe I'm having this discussion with you. Get out of my office!" he made a shooing motion with his hands.

Malfoy did exactly the opposite, advancing into the room slowly. "It sounds like you need a little help, Potter, and I'm feeling abnormally gracious."

"No," Harry said warningly.

"So I will help you through this confusing time," Malfoy continued as if Harry hadn't spoken. "It's only my duty, as your dear friend."

"We aren't friends!" Harry protested. Why was Malfoy getting so close? And why was his heart beating so fast?

"No, you're right. Friends don't kiss, do they?" Malfoy sauntered up next to him, his sexy smirk doing unspeakable things to Harry's imagination.

"No! They definitely don't kiss!" Harry panicked, standing up from his chair and backing up a step.

Malfoy pouted, taking in Harry's defensive posture. Then he smirked again, leaning in suggestively. "Good thing we aren't friends then," he murmured, his silver eyes smoldering. He turned abruptly on his heel, sauntering back to the door. He called over his shoulder, "Feel grateful I'm so thoughtful, Potter. I'll help you along, so you don't have anything to worry about!"

"Wait, help how? Help with _what_?" Harry nearly shouted, but he was too late. Malfoy had already left.

"God!" Harry moaned, slumping back down in his chair. What the hell did Malfoy mean by help? And did he really want to know...?

**-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-**

That week, Harry threw himself into work like never before. He filled up his days in order to push out all the confusing thoughts in his head. He flirted outrageously with the giggling Minister's secretary, and generally tried to convince himself that he never wanted to look at another man again. Malfoy was the only blight on his brilliant plan. It seemed the man was determined to drive him mad!

The very next day after their conversation, Harry was walking through the Atrium to work, when he caught the sound of many whispered voices. He looked around, but for once, the attention wasn't because of him.

Malfoy was striding through the crowd toward the lifts, leaving a trail of wide eyes and gaping jaws behind him. Harry snapped his own mouth shut when he realized it was open, trying to tear his eyes away from the sight. Malfoy had come dressed to work like he was going to a runway, his polished boots clacking on the marble floor, his cape snapping behind him dramatically. Harry had never paid attention to fashion, preferring simple jeans and a t-shirt beneath his regulation Auror robes, but he had no idea that clothes could make a person look so good.

Malfoy was wearing a fitted red leather coat, scandalously tight khaki breeches, and red leather boots that laced up to his knees. On Harry, it would have looked pretentious, but on Malfoy it looked like walking sex. Malfoy made eye contact with Harry across the floor, and he couldn't help it when a flicker of interest pulsed through his body. Malfoy smirked, like he knew what was going on in Harry's mind, and met him on the way to the lifts.

Harry suspected that Malfoy was glaring away at the other Ministry employees, because no one else entered the lifts with them, and Harry had to endure the ride alone with the blond. Harry pretended to ignore him, ignoring the smell of leather and the clean scent that was uniquely Malfoy's. As the lift started moving, however, Harry couldn't help but watch out the corner of his eyes as Malfoy started peeling off his leather gloves. He started on his right hand, pulling the leather up from his fingers one by one, then to Harry's astonishment, used his teeth to pull it off, one of the leather fingers disappearing behind perfect white teeth.

Harry would feel his eyes widening as he watched the process with the other hand in fascination. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away, and did it seem to be getting hotter in here? Suddenly, he saw a gleam of silver, and realized with a start that Malfoy was watching him from beneath lowered eyelids.

"See something you like, Potter?" Malfoy's voice was low and smooth, and it made Harry's stomach flip for some reason.

Harry covered up his surprise with a snort. "Just wondering what the hell you're wearing, Malfoy."

"Do you like it?" Malfoy purred, "I brought it to show Kingsley. He wants me to do an undercover job, and I wanted to show him an outfit I thought would be appropriate."

"Seems hardly appropriate," Harry mumbled as the lift stopped, and they both stepped to their floor. He surreptitiously adjusted his trousers.

Malfoy gave him a knowing smirk, nodding to him as he made his way down the opposite hall towards the Minister's office.

Harry gave an exasperated sound, and marched off in the other direction.

**-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-**

The day after that, during their weekly strategy meeting, Harry caught Malfoy performing some kind of subtle fellatio on his quill. He never looked at Harry, but his smirk was telling. He knew Harry was watching. Harry ignored him.

Harry got partnered with him on Thursday to do security rounds in Diagon Alley. That day was pure torture. The innuendos were one right after another, with Malfoy feigning innocence the whole time. When they were grabbing a bite to eat at the cafe, Harry spilled coffee on himself (he strongly suspected sabotage) and Malfoy actually _got on his knees_ at Harry's feet, giving the excuse of helping him clean up.

For some reason, that night, Harry couldn't sleep. Visions of a pale-haired blond kneeling before him, gazing up at him with those mischievous silver eyes, repeated in his head, over and over again. He did not imagine those wicked lips wrapping around his hard length, a clever tongue stroking him to distraction. He did not imagine weaving his hands through that silky hair and pushing his head down to swallow him deeper. And he certainly did not have to take a cold, cold shower.

Friday was spent avoiding Malfoy, all his Gryffindor courage vanished in the wind. He even brought his invisibility cloak to work. He was trying his hardest not to think about what he'd had on his mind all week. At this point, he couldn't deny he liked looking at other men. His utter distraction with Malfoy proved that. However, he was stubbornly convinced that it was only that- looking. He just couldn't wrap his head around the fact that he could be gay, or at least bisexual. It was just one more thing he didn't want to deal with.

Malfoy didn't show up for the whole day, and Harry was both relieved and, strangely, a little disappointed. By the end of the day, he was ready to believe that Malfoy had given up tormenting him.

Harry was finishing up some of the paperwork he'd missed while going through his little personal crisis, and it was causing him to stay a little later than normal. Nearly everyone else had left the office, and Harry sighed, poring over the small print one last time.

He heard footsteps in the hallway and knew before he came in that it was Malfoy. Malfoy didn't even knock this time, he just strolled in, promptly sitting himself down on Harry's desk, giving him a polite little nod. "Potter," he said.

"Malfoy," Harry said in the same tone. He could feel the git staring at him, but he was trying to focus on this last paper. And trying to get the fantasy images from last night to stop playing in his brain. Merlin, the blond was distracting!

"Frighteningly little progress," Malfoy remarked in disapproval. He pushed Harry's paperwork away from him, forcing the dark-haired wizard to glare up at him in annoyance. "At this rate, you're going to be as old as Dumbledore before you figure out you like men."

"Jesus, Malfoy, can you let up? I told you, I don't like men."

Malfoy was incredulous, "You _can't_ still be in denial. Potter, you are making me doubt my talents. I thought for sure you'd be accepting it by now."

"There's nothing to accept," Harry said stubbornly.

"You have to face up to it sometime. Are you a Gryffindor or not?"

"I'm channeling my Slytherin side," Harry said peevishly.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Oh for Christ's sake, this has gone on long enough."

And then Malfoy's lips were on his, pressing against him urgently, and all thoughts evaporated from Harry's head. Malfoy's tongue flickered out, teasing Harry's lips, and he gasped as a shiver of desire forked down his spine. Malfoy pressed his advantage, his tongue pushing into Harry's hot cavern, stroking him with long, even sweeps.

After the initial surprise, Harry felt a swirl of desire tugging at his belly, and he felt himself start to respond to Malfoy's skillful touch. Harry had never felt something so consuming, and he leaned forward despite himself. He relished the taste of Malfoy's lips on his, the clean scent of his skin entrapping his senses.

Malfoy's tongue was pressing in with firm strokes, and Harry sucked on the intruding smooth muscle. The blond let out a muted moan, the vibrations making Harry's stomach flutter with pleasure. He could feel heat emanating from the body in front of him, warm hands on his shoulders, pressing him back into his chair. Harry was aware of his own hands, currently grasping silken strands of flaxen hair as he held Malfoy to him.

_It really is soft as silk,_ Harry thought with wonder.

Malfoy pulled Harry's bottom lip into his mouth, suckling it gently, and then, too soon, Malfoy was pulling back from the kiss, the absence of his warm lips suddenly painful. Harry could only blink in bewilderment, his breath short and heart beating rapidly. Had that really happened? Had Malfoy really kissed him? Had he really kissed him back?

But his eyes were riveted to the sight before him. Malfoy looked devastatingly sexy, thighs parted as he sat in front on him on his desk, his pupils blown wide, his hair mussed, his lips - _fuck, his lips!_ - flushed pink and swollen.

"Not enough," Malfoy murmured almost to himself, looking down into Harry's eyes searchingly.

"Hmm?" Harry said distractedly. Not enough what? He was too busy watching Malfoy's tongue as it flicked out to lick his lower lip. He idly hoped Malfoy meant not enough kissing, because he wanted to get back to it.

Malfoy pulled out his wand, and without speaking, vanished the arms on Harry's chair.

"What-?" Harry began in protest, but Malfoy silenced him, pushing himself off the desk and straddling Harry with one motion, gripping him tightly between his thighs. He pressed his lips forcefully against Harry's again, and the dark-haired wizard couldn't help the moan that escaped him. Malfoy's lips and tongue felt so good against his own, licking and stroking and leaving him breathless.

He'd never felt this way before, the spark of lust fanning into a wildfire as Malfoy plundered his mouth, his hands on his neck, pulling him closer. Harry's hands rested on the blond's arse, and he could feel the tensing of his thighs straining beneath his clothing. The press of Malfoy's weight felt good on top of him, and he surrendered to the kiss, tiny shivers raking through him.

Then Malfoy thrust himself against him, and he realized with a jolt- _Merlin_- they were both _hard_. The brush of Malfoy's cock against his cloth-covered length sent pleasurable sparks shooting up and down Harry's spine, and he groaned unashamedly. The brush of cock against cock felt so good, Harry felt his head spin, and he was suddenly very glad he was sitting down. Malfoy thrust himself against him again and again, rolling his hips rhythmically against Harry.

Harry could do nothing but hold on for dear life as he let the sensations wash over him, the pleasure building in waves with each push. His aching cock strained against his trousers, the friction between them building up to maddening levels. The tension pulsing deep in his groin made his body feel stretched taut as a wire, and he ached to relieve it.

Malfoy released his hold on his mouth, his lips latching onto his sensitive neck, biting down lightly in the hollow where it met his shoulder.

"_Gods_, Malfoy," Harry gasped, tossing his head back, overwhelmed with sensation. He caught sight of the open door of his office and he groaned, thinking of the sight they would make should anyone happen by, him and Malfoy rutting against each other like rabbits in heat.

But Harry couldn't bring himself to care, as he felt Draco's wicked tongue dart out to taste the skin of his neck. The tongue was hot and slick, flicking against the tendons and making Harry's breath catch. Harry's hands slid underneath Malfoy's shirt, sliding up smooth skin. Malfoy hummed in pleasure, and Harry shuddered at the feeling. Harry had the urge to touch him, touch him everywhere he could reach. He ran his hands up his back, and then across his taut stomach, delighting in the twitching muscles there.

Harry wondered what Malfoy's cock would feel like in his hand-_fuck_- imagined stroking it roughly as Malfoy did sinful things with his mouth. The thought left him hot and wanting, and he reached between them, his arm moving of its own volition. He stroked Malfoy tentatively through his trousers, the full length of it pressing hard against the fabric. He was rewarded by a long groan that was ripped from Malfoy's mouth, Malfoy's body trembling above him as he captured Harry's lips possessively.

Malfoy drove forward, pushing himself against Harry's hardness with single-minded abandon. Harry could feel his body tensing, the thrusts against his cock sending intense pleasure shooting through him. He was so turned on, he could barely think. Suddenly, he reached a plateau, and he could feel himself tipping over the edge.

"Oh _fuck_, Malfoy, I'm going to-!" The tightness coiled and released, sending Harry spiraling upwards in euphoric bliss, his blood thrumming as he came hard. He groaned out his release, his whole body convulsing as the sensation rolled through him in wave after wave of pleasure. Malfoy thrust against him once, twice, three times more, and he groaned as well, his hardness pulsing against Harry's as he spent himself.

The two sat together, catching their breath, skin damp and bodies flushed with exertion. Harry laid his head back against the chair, his hands resting on Malfoy's thighs, enjoying the pleasant shudders that passed through him. Malfoy was panting shallowly, his body slumped forward, pressing himself against Harry's chest.

After a moment, Malfoy pushed against his chest lightly with both hands, leaning back. He was panting slightly, but he gave a victorious smirk as he looked Harry up and down. "That did it," he announced, picking himself up. He stood beside the chair, found his wand, and performed a quick cleaning charm on himself. He cast a couple other charms, and suddenly he was immaculate, his robes and hair straight, his breathing back to normal.

Malfoy gave Harry one last appraising look, approving of what he saw. "Well then, see you Monday, Potter," he said, throwing a quick grin behind him as he left a bewildered Harry behind and walked out the door.

Harry stared for a few more moments, his mind trying to process what just happened. He fumbled for his wand, casting a cleaning charm over himself, then let his head slump onto the desk in exhaustion.

_Fuck_, _that was brilliant_, he thought. He could still feel the aftereffects of pleasure coursing through him sluggishly, his body so relaxed he doubted he could move. Maybe if it was like that all the time, he wouldn't mind being gay... There was no use denying it now. He sat for a while, and a thought came to him. His lips curved upwards in a smile.

For the first time, he was looking forward to Monday.

The End!

**-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-**

So Draco, I think I'm having problems with my own sexuality. Care to help me figure it out? Lol!

Leave a review, let me know what you thought, and I may send Draco your way... After I'm done with him!


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